It's Business, Baby!
by FranklyMyDear23
Summary: Jack has a business proposition of Liz.


**Author's Note: The more and more I watch 30 Rock on Netflix, the more I am drawn to these two. So I decided to get my little fangirl brain to work and come up with a fanfiction for these two. It's sort of AU - hope you don't mind. I don't own 30 Rock. Enjoy!**

**Chapter One**

Liz Lemon downed her third cranberry juice of the night. The bartender had been giving her sideways glances all night, but she didn't care. She needed to drink to take her mind off of her nerves. After having tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep in her new apartment, she'd pulled her coat over her pajamas - luckily she was wearing her Sponge Bob boxer sleep shorts so her coat disguised her attire - and headed out to a bar. She decided to treat herself and settled for a bar not far from her new work place. Now that she thought about it, it was kind of a stupid idea. Wasn't she trying to escape her nerves? Work should be the last thing on her mind. But she'd found a bar close to her new workplace, gone inside, and ordered herself cranberry juice after cranberry juice.

Maybe this was all some big mistake. She should have just stayed in White Haven writing for her local home shopping network. It was so easy writing for At Home With Barbra Jo! and at least it was home. New York terrified her. But somehow she'd been picked up and offered a job writing for NBC's The Girlie Show. She'd seen The Girlie Show many times and loved it, never actually imagining she'd be writing for the show. But somewhere along the lines, she'd done right by the world. She had an excellent resume, an excellent education, and now she had the head writing position for The Girlie Show. And a New York City apartment. And butterflies in her stomach.

"Another cranberry juice, please," Liz nodded towards the bartender. He served her another glass and she downed it. Tomorrow would be her first day. She had a writing department she'd be the new head of. What if they didn't like her? What if she accidentally snarted on her very first day? Liz felt sick. Oh no..._please don't snart_, she begged herself. This was New York City. Not White Haven. She needed to be presentable and professional.

Right as she was giving herself an inner monologue about professionalism, she turned to take an empty table by the window. Only she had been too busy monologuing to see the man standing right behind her. She walked right into him, sloshing cranberry juice all over his navy blue suit jacket.

"Aw cheesecakes!" Liz groaned, "Sorry about that," she glanced up to see the man's horrified appearance. His face was pale and his mouth was open in utter shock. He had his hands raised as if he was surrendering. _Nice going, Lemon!_

"Um...cheesecakes?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow and lowering his hands. He accepted a napkin from the bartender and began to pat at his suit.

"It's a term," Liz explained, feeling her face go hot and splotchy with embarrassment.

"Are you...having some sort of allergic reaction?" The man asked, backing slowly away from her.

"N-no...my face gets like this when I kind of want to melt into a puddle on the floor."

"I wouldn't know that feeling," he replied coolly, still patting at his suit, "You know this is a three thousand dollar suit."

"I'm sure you can have it dry-cleaned."

"Excuse me?" The man let out a small chuckle, "Was that your attempt at a joke?"

"N-no..." Liz stammered, wishing she could just disappear. He was not helping the situation. Already she felt even smaller than she had walking to the bar. He looked down at her. His voice condescending. She hated the way she felt standing in front of him.

"Good, because it was not a very funny one. Do you consider yourself to be a funny person?"

"Uh...yes. Yes!" Liz tried to sound stronger and more confident than she felt, "I do consider myself a funny person. I write comedy."

"Is that so?" The man raised a skeptical eyebrow, "For who? And for the love of God do not say for a traveling variety act that visits old folks' homes. Even though that seems to be the only situation I can see that anyone would find you to be funny."

Liz felt sick, "I'm sorry about your suit. I really am," she tried to push past him but he held up a hand.

"Oh no," he said, a coy smiling playing at his lips, "You ruined my three thousand dollar suit. The least you can do is keep me company while I have a drink. You...amuse me. And tonight I find myself to be rather bored. So you are going to be my entertainment tonight."

"Oh no...I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Three thousand dollar suit," he reminded her, and Liz rolled her eyes.

They took a seat together at the table by the window. One of the waiters approached them and took his order. He asked for a scotch and waved his hand towards Liz.

"Another cranberry juice please."

"Are you sure you do not want that in a child's cup with a lid and a straw?" He asked her, "Perhaps that'd be safest for all of us."

"I can handle drinking a drink," Liz rolled her eyes, "You just happened to be in my way."

"Excuse me?" He chuckled, "I was in your way? You were talking to yourself with no sound coming out of your mouth and ran right into me."

"Was I doing that again?"

"What? Spilling drinks on people like a maniac?"

"No, was I talking to myself while doing an inner monologue?"

"Is that what you call it," he shook his head, "Tell me about yourself. What is your name? What god-forsaken corner of the United States did you crawl out of, because clearly, you are not from such a fine state as New York. You lack the...panache."

Liz felt her cheeks grow hot. Was it that obvious? "My name is Liz...Liz Lemon."

"Lemon?" Another chuckle, "What kind of name is Lemon?"

"I...uh...my dad's family is from..."

"Bored," he rolled his eyes, "Where are you from?"

"White Haven, Pen..."

"Ah, my scotch," he accepted the drink from the waiter and said, "Put her order on my tab."

"No...you can't," Liz felt herself become even more mortified. She'd ruined this man's suit and now he was paying for her cranberry juice.

"I'm Jack Donaghy," he said was if it was the best explanation out there, "I can do whatever I please."

"Oh _please_," Liz snorted, taking a sip of her cranberry juice, "You surely cannot be _that_ important. Who do you think you are? The king of the world?"

"Yes," Jack replied in all serious, "I am."

"God," Liz groaned, "You're one of _those_ types."

"Excuse me?"

"You're one of those types of guys who think the world revolves around him and women are just going to bow down before you."

"That's been known to happen," he shrugged casually.

"God," Liz grimaced. He was foul. Of all the people to run into, she'd have to run into this bully? She cursed herself for being so clumsy. Now here she was stuck at a table in a bar with this man.

_As God is my witness, I am never going to inner monologue again! Oh...wait._

"So why are you at a bar wearing a trench coat trying to cover up the fact that you are in your pajamas?"

"Oh God!" Liz's eyes turned to saucers and she clutched at her coat, "How'd you..."

"X-Ray vision."

"What?"

"Lucky guess."

"Who _are_ you?" Liz shook her head, "And just so you know, I am wearing _very_ sexy lingerie under here."

"Tank top with boxer sleep shorts of a cartoon character?"

"Again, who _are_ you?" Liz glared at him in shock and concern. This was not happening. Not to her. Not tonight. Maybe he'd just let her leave. She could go back home and try to go to sleep.

"King of the world," he smiled smugly, taking a sip of his scotch.

Liz stood from the table angrily, "Look...you! I don't know who you are and I will not stand for you treating me like this and talking to me like this. Where are your manners? I am sorry I spilled cranberry juice on you. But for you to force me to sit here while you belittle me, my name, where I'm from...I will not take it. I don't have to take it. So I am going to leave now and go home. But first..." she dug some cash out of her pocket, "Here! For my cranberry juices. I refuse to have a man like you pay for me."

"Excuse me?" The look on his face was complete amusement, which only angered her more.

"Good bye," Liz stormed out the bar. So far, she was not enjoying New York very much at all. Were all the people here so rude? What if the people at her new job were just like this man? She'd have to quit. She could just say no thanks and move back home with her mom and dad and At Home With Barbra Jo! but Liz Lemon was no quitter. She'd go to that job tomorrow. She'd walk in with her head held high and knock them all dead.

_What was that song from Sound of Music? The one Julie Andrews sings before going to meet the Von Trapp family? No one can be as harsh as Captain Von Trapp was to her on her first day, right? Except for maybe that awful, awful man in that bar! What was his name again? Jack...Jack...oh no. No. No. No. No._

Liz dug her cellphone out from her coat pocket and searched through her emails. She finally found the one she'd wanted and clicked on it.

_"Congratulations Elizabeth Lemon. Due to NBC trying to reach out to new audiences, you've been selected for the position as head writer for The Girlie Show. You have been chosen from numerous other television writers from around the United States. We find that you will be a good fit to bring a down-home feel to NBC and connect with other audiences (i.e.: farmers, elderly in rural areas, etc.). Please make arrangements to be in New York. NBC will cover all your moving costs as well as first month's rent and downpayment in new living accommodations. If you wish to deny this new job venture, please respond to this email immediately. If not, you start on August 10th for the new season. _

_Our regards, the NBC team and Jonathan for The Vice President of East Coast Television, Jack Donaghy._


End file.
